


Second Star Of Vos

by Spoon888



Series: The Stars Of Vos [1]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Arranged Marriage, Culture Shock, Kissing, M/M, Misunderstandings, Politics, Sticky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:06:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24057955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spoon888/pseuds/Spoon888
Summary: The youngest (and unruliest) of Vosian Princes is sent to Iacon as part of a war reparation. To build upon their hard won peace, the council decide it's in everyone's best interest that the Prince be made to conjunx their Prime.
Relationships: Optimus Prime/Starscream
Series: The Stars Of Vos [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1750966
Comments: 23
Kudos: 311





	Second Star Of Vos

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Roboapollo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roboapollo/gifts).



> I won't ever bore of this type of AU.

Starscream had absolutely no intention of making this easy on anyone, _especially_ the Prime that was to be his conjunx.

Sadly, it went against every line of his ruthlessly designed coding to make an utter spectacle of himself in refusing to comply. As the youngest, as the _spare_ , he was deemed expendable, and alongside the buckets of shanix and heirlooms with millions of years Vosian heritage behind them, Starscream's designation and title were tacked onto the end of the treaty, all to save the mecha who had started their misguided uprising from having to annex a valuable bit of coastal Vosian territory.  
  
Because what was Starscream's freedom and future compared to the loss of the elite's _holiday homes?_  
  
The Iaconian's were decent enough, if a little too touchy-feely for Starscream's liking. Preparations for the licence signing had been made ahead of Starscream's arrival, and the first moment he even set optics on his conjunx-to-be was when the light pen was placed into his limp hand and directed towards the dotted line on the data-pad.  
  
The Prime was tall, and possibly handsome under the plain silver face-mask he wore. His optics were a vibrant blue and something about their shape and tone held a unspoken weariness, something that contrasted against the obvious youth in his spark. It was likely he was no older than Starscream himself. Possibly younger.  
  
He scribbled his designation next to the Prime, only thinking to glimpse his given name a moment before it was whisked away.  
  
Optimus.  
  
"I will do everything in my power to ensure you are comfortable here," he told Starscream in a deep, rolling baritone, bending over the back of his hand. Starscream met his twinkling blue gaze coldly, more than used to the gentlemanly-act so many politicians liked to cultivate.  
  
Starscream sat through the formal fuelling in silence afterwards, stiff-winged and tense. The Top Table was a place he had always aspired to be seated, but not in Iacon, and not surrounded by grounders. Several of them insisted on speaking to him, several more stared at his wings. None of them understood the subtleties of his body language - when his wings flicked and shifted in agitation, his obvious pleas for solitude going ignored. To top his misery off, the fuel was less charged than he was used to, and sat heavily in his tanks.  
  
He didn't feel much like a Prime's Consort. He no longer even felt like a Prince.  
  
Despite promises to keep him comfortable, the Prime left him to face the unfamiliar onslaught alone, and once the fuelling ended he disappeared off with his mechs to take care of whatever business was so much more important than the conjunx he had just claimed. Starscream was escorted to the Prime's private apartments alone.  
  
Apartments which they were to share, much to Starscream's dread.  
  
He lay in clean, warm sheets in the dark, waiting tensely for his conjunx to return, wondering how long he was to wait for the _privilege_ of Prime's company. He was crippling inexperienced for what he knew was to come, his only knowledge surrounding the subject coming from a particularly stuffy guardian who had pulled him to one side moments before he was due to leave for Iacon and told him, in brutal and armour-crawlingly thorough detail, what would be expected of him.  
  
Obedience and submission. To serve his Prime.  
  
He fingered at the sheets as his nerves bubbled up and waned in waves, everytime his audials heard a murmur out in the corridor or footsteps passing by. He shuttered his optics and steadied his breaths, willing himself not to fall to pieces before the Prime even touched him.  
  
He tossed and turned for what felt like hours, the threat of waking suddenly to find Prime climbing over him kept him up till the early hours of the morning. When he did sleep he was plagued by unpleasant dreams -of faceless grounders crowding him, pawing at his wings, their engines sucking the air out of the room and pumping out heat. The Prime watched on passively. His blue optics as cold as the steel of his mask.  
  
Starscream woke with a gasp in an empty berth, light streaming through the gaps in the thick golden curtains. He looked around the room for any sign of his conjunx and found himself utterly alone. The left side of the berth was untouched and cold. He fell back against the pillows with a sigh half-relieved, half ...unexpectedly lonely.  
  
Where had the Prime recharged if not in his own berth? His office?  
  
The prospect was actually rather insulting. Whatever would the staff think? They might assume the rowdy, disagreeable Prince had chased their leader off. They _might_ assume he'd been so cold and unwelcoming the Prime had sought companionship elsewhere. The very night after their union no less!  
  
The idea filled Starscream with a cold sense of rejection. He rolled onto his front and fisted the covers in frustration. The only thing worse then being sent halfway across the planet as a glorified apology was being rejected and sent back again.  
  
He was, Primus-forbid, actually going to have to make an effort here.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
The first servant drone he apprehended was thankfully intelligent enough to know where his new conjunx had hidden himself away. It was as Starscream had feared - his official office.  
  
Starscream had been raised _right,_ taught never to wander beyond his station. The Winglord's official office being one such place. It just wasn't his place as a Prince, let alone as the _lesser_ Prince of the palace.

To boldly stride uninvited into his Conjunx Endura's personal place of work would be bordering on marital insubordination, so he set his expression into something polite and passive, and forced himself to knock lightly.  
  
A moment passed, and just as he was beginning to lose his nerve and reprimand himself for his foolishness, the door opened.  
  
Prime's optics tracked down and widened at the sight of him. "Starscream."  
  
Starscream was surprised he'd remembered his name.  
  
"Prime," he dipped his helm in deference, and tried not to think too long on how this was only the second time they had ever spoken to one another.  
  
Prime seemed to get over his shock and stepped back, giving Starscream room to enter. "Please," he gestured.  
  
Starscream wasn't sure about entering. There was something scandalous about being alone in the office together. He had to remind himself again that they were conjunxed to overcome the thought of shame. He folded his wings close to his frame as he slipped by. Prime had given him plenty of room to pass, but just the brush of his EM field against Starscream's sent shivers down his back.  
  
"How did you recharge?" Prime asked, following him deeper into the office.  
  
Starscream spotted a broad desk in front of a set of large windows. He was tempted by the large chair behind the desk, high backed and official-looking, but his old guardian's voice was speaking in his mind, reminding him of his place. He begrudgingly dumped himself into the smaller seat in front of the desk. "Badly."  
  
Prime seemed surprised at his lack of social etiquette. "I'm sorry to hear that-"  
  
"Where were you last night?" Starscream demanded, lamenting that he had already become a nag.  
  
Primus paused before sitting opposite him. He lowered himself into the chair slowly.  
  
"Here," he admitted. "I felt it more appropriate to allow you your space."  
  
Starscream shifted, "There's nothing appropriate about a conjunxed couple recharging separately."  
  
Prime clasped his hands together on the desk in front of him and studied Starscream closely.  
  
"I see," he murmured seriously, but there was something of a mischievous twinkle in his optic. Like he found something about this amusing. "You would rather I joined you tonight then?"  
  
Starscream swallowed the lump building in his throat and nodded stiff and firm. "Unless you have some ulterior motive in avoiding me?"  
  
"I will see tonight," Prime nodded, picking up a light pen and drawing a data-pad towards him.  
  
Starscream stood quickly, taking that as his cue to leave. "Yes," he muttered stuffily, flaring his wings out. The Prime's optics flicked upwards to focus on them. "You will."  
  
He turned on his heel and left the spacious office, blissfully unaware that his conjunx's optics were on everything _but_ his work.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
Starscream sat up and waited for him again that night, smoothing the sheets across his lap and positioning himself so he was reclined elegantly. He kept the covers modestly high, but not clutched up at his neck. He wanted neither to encourage or dissuade but it was difficult to find that balance with the lines so blurred. It was his role as the consort to serve the Prime in this fashion, as a companion and a lover, and it would be just as scandalously inappropriate for him to fling himself at him like a harlot as it would be for him to refuse him.  
  
His chrono ticked on, and it wasn't until well after midnight, as he was drifting in and out of consciousness, that steady pedefalls sounded somewhere behind the walls of the Prime's apartment. He sat up and blinked the haze of sleep from his optics when he heard the swish of a door. Heavy steps crossed the living space, the door beeped, and Starscream squinted through the dark at the tall figure filling the doorframe.  
  
Blue optics found him in the berth.  
  
"Starscream," the Prime's voice was soft and quiet. "I hope you weren't waiting up for me."  
  
Starscream neither confirmed nor denied, wetting his lips in lieu of an answer as he followed the large shadow's progress across the room. The Prime climbed into the left side of the berth, leaving Starscream with space enough for three mechs and then some. Only a faint waft of the warmth coming off his large frame met the edges of his wing. Starscream turned into his side to watch him settle down with a weary sigh.  
  
"You often work late?"  
  
"Unfortunately," the Prime murmured, lying on his back with his optics shuttered. "Ruling comes with no end of paperwork."  
  
Starscream watched him in silence as his frame settled against the plush padding of the berth, his vents evening out into slow, heavy breaths. It was quite obvious that he no intention of taking things further.  
  
Feeling bold in the darkness, and a little indignant at the lack of endless attention he had grown used to receiving in Vos, Starscream shuffled across the distance between them, until his wing grazed the edge of Prime's massive shoulder.  
  
He felt Prime stir through the vibrations in the berth and stilled, pretending to be recharging himself. After a pause he felt him move, rolling onto his side to parallel him, the heat of his chest plates brushing across the backs of Starscream's wings.

The distinct lack of touch between them was somehow intimate, and Starscream struggled to find recharge with his tanks in such knots.  
  
The Prime breathed heavily against the back of his neck, "Goodnight, Starscream."  
  
Starscream shuttered his optics tightly and swallowed, ignoring the string pulling taut between his hips.

"Goodnight, Prime."  
  
  


* * *

  
  
Optimus woke before he did, and must have some sort of undisclosed other worldly stealth no grounder had the right to possess in order to have snuck out of the apartment and off to his duties without ever rousing Starscream.  
  
Waking up to a cooling berth in a still unfamiliar building left him with something of a hollow feeling in his chest. He had little interest in making small talk and niceties with the Prime so early in the morning, but something self-conscious rose within him at the thought of lying sprawled across the berth unconscious, disheveled, and for all he knew, snoring, in front of the conjunx he had yet to seduce.  
  
Not that he had put a great effort into such a thing so far. He really hadn't thought it would be necessary. Ugly grounders and cheap, easy whores were the sort of mecha who stooped to seducing their partners. Starscream never would have expected _he_ would have to lower himself to such vulgar behaviour.  
  
And nor was he going to.  
  
If the Prime was in no rush to use his conjunx endura for his intended purpose, then neither was Starscream.  
  
Still, it stung. He was senior royalty- gorgeous, flawless, forced into leaving his life of glamor and decadence behind all so he could conjunx a socially challenged _former-cop_ and suffer performing the cripplingly dull duties of a Prime Consort, and yet _he_ , with all his charm and beauty and intelligence, wasn't interesting enough for _Prime_?!  
  
It was utterly unbearable. That stuck-up ...Iaconian ... _politician_!  
  
Starscream didn't see much of Optimus in his day to day schedule. Most of his time was spent involved in the frivolous and borderline insulting responsibilities of his new rank - dealing with charities, meeting with politicians, approving statements, and smiling at the common mechs.  
  
Since Prime had far better things to be doing than any of that, Starscream never saw him until the evening refuels, and much like in Vos, it was a stately, formal affair. He sat on Prime's left at the top of the table, looking down along the rest of the gathered officials.  
  
Most were talking among themselves, but Optimus was still engrossed in his work. Next to his large servo sat a stack of data-pads full of charts and lists and memos. Starscream wondered how something so boring could possibly be more interesting than him - polished to a high shine and fragranced with kalisian rock crystal as he was. Optimus hadn't appeared to notice.  
  
Starscream sipped his cube elegantly and fluttered his wings, stirring the air and drawing the attention of mechs sitting around him. A few began to inquire into how he was adjusting to life in Iacon. Optimus continued reading obliviously.  
  
Along the table, another couple were sat together. They were speaking intimately. Their hands kept brushing together until they finally gave up on their attempt at chasteness and threaded their fingers together. One said something to make the other laugh - and the way they _looked_ at one another with such unguarded affection sent a stab of envy shooting through Starscream's spark so powerful that he snapped his gaze back to his cube and elected to ignore the lot of them for the rest of the evening.  
  
"Are you alright?"  
  
Oh, _now_ he notices him?!  
  
Starscream stuffed down his frustration and forced a smile to his lips. It wasn't very convincing, as Optimus's brows lowered in deeper concern. "I am fine."  
  
"If you squeeze that cube any harder it's going to shatter," Optimus gestured, turning back to his work.  
  
And with that final nail in the coffin, Starscream's hand clenched around the cube and smashed it. The other diners gasped and several chairs scrapped back as they stood to help him. Prime even lowered his data-pad. A fraction.  
  
Starscream stood up abruptly before they could crowd him any further, turning on his heel and striding out of the banquet hall, dripping spilled energon and glass shards that cleaning drones shot out of their charging docks and trailed him frantically to clean up.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
Starscream lay on his front and sulked. The sensible part of his processor that hadn't made much of an effort since he'd arrived in Iacon reminded him that he'd never wanted to conjunx a grounder in the first place, and being left to his own devises and allowed such freedom was the best he could have hoped for.  
  
And it reminded him that this was an arranged union, and he'd be a fool to expect doting and romance and casual physical affection from a mech that likely no more wanted him than he had Prime.  
  
It also reminded him that he didn't like being touched anyway! So where had this sudden craving for handholding come from?!  
  
No, it was the principle of the thing, the much stronger, pettier and more envious side of him argued. He was a beautiful seeker, intelligent, eligible, sought after, and pure. Before all that nonsense with the insurgency and that failed attempt at staring a war he had had suitors lining up just for the chance to woo him with gifts.  
  
Did this Prime not realise what he had?! Did grounders perceive beauty differently to seekers?  
  
Was he actually ugly? Was he actually ... _undesirable_ in the optics of an Iaconian? Was that why the Prime hadn't wanted to share his berth? Was that why he hadn't so much as glanced his way, let alone touched him?  
  
Starscream punched a pillow in frustration. He had gone from the most eligible seeker in Vos to the Prime's ugly hag of a consort!  
  
There were footsteps approaching his location.  
  
It wasn't an unholy hour of the night so Starscream shot up in surprise when the door to the berth-room swept open. He rolled into his back and scooted back across the berth when Prime appeared in the doorway, looking solemn.  
  
Starscream's face warmed as he remembered his ridiculous display in the banquet hall. His tank twisted itself into nervous knots at the thought at what was going to be said to him now.  
  
The Prime cleared his vocaliser. "Have I done something to offend you?"  
  
Starscream blinked. That ...had not been how he was expecting this conversation to go.  
  
"...No," He lied.  
  
Optimus moved into the room, and the spacious apartment always seemed to shrink in his presence. He sat on a chair next to a shelve of data-files, threading his digits together over his lap, elbows resting on the arm rests.  
  
"Then perhaps breaking antic glassware is a Vosian custom I was not made aware of? In which case I'll inform the serving drones not to let you near anything expensive. Will the plastic cubes we give to the sparklings suffice for you in future?"   
  
He was _teasing_ him. The bastard. Starscream felt like the heat rising up from his chest was threatening to _engulf_ him.

"That ...was an accident," he hissed.  
  
"A rather convenient one."  
  
"A convenient-" Never, in all of Starscream's life, had _anyone_ had the _audacity_.  
  
"Are you mocking me?!" He demanded incredulously.  
  
"I am trying to speak to my conjunx," Optimus denied.  
  
"That's a first!" Starscream thrust a finger at him. "Seeing as all you've done is ignore my existence so far!"  
  
Optimus shifted in his seat, "I was giving you space."  
  
"Enough space to dock a fragging space-station!" Starscream protested. "I don't want to be here anymore than you want me to but it wasn't _my_ council that came up with that Pit-awful idea to have us conjunx!"  
  
Optimus stood and crossed the room to sit on the edge of the berth, still a fair distance away from Starscream, but close enough to make him shift away in displeasure at his proximity.  
  
"I was not-" Prime began, then stopped himself, starting again. "I had no intention of making you feel unwelcome. I am well aware that you were reluctant to go through with this, and I didn't want to worsen your situation by ...forcing my company on you."  
  
Starscream rolled his optics and laughed, "And people accuse _me_ of being socially inept. It didn't occur to you that I'm completely and utterly alone here?! With no one but serving drones to talk to? Meanwhile, you spend you every waking moment staring at charts and diagrams that are apparently much more appealing to look at than your own conjunx."   
  
"I wouldn't say that."  
  
Starscream's mouth snapped shut on his next complaint, "Wouldn't say what?"  
  
"That you are unappealing." Optimus's optics tracked slowly down his frame, lingering at points. "Quite the opposite, in fact."  
  
"Well," Starscream tossed his head back and crossed his legs self-consciously, "That's..."  
  
He jumped when fingers brushed his, and it was only by his own steely self-restraint that he didn't yank his hand away when Optimus's warm palm fell atop his own. A thumb slid back and forth across the back of his wrist.  
  
Something kicked to life low in Starscream's tanks. He felt his wing tips tremble. He saw Optimus's optics flick up to them and the heat in his neck reached his cheeks.  
  
He looked away to shield his obvious blush. He wet his lips. "Don't you have charts to stare at somewhere?"  
  
"Not tonight," Optimus said warmly, reaching out another servo and brushing Starscream's flame-hot cheek with the backs of his fingers. The live thing in the pits of Starscream's tank began to _squirm_ , tickling something between his hips. He pinched his thighs together.  
  
"Join me in the study?" Optimus offered kindly, standing with Starscream's hand still in his. "I can teach you how to play holo-chess?"  
  
"I know how to play," Starscream said hotly, rising on wobbly legs.   
  
"Oh really? Perhaps I'll finally have a challenge."  
  
Starscream snorted, rapidly flapping a hand at his own cheeks to try and cool them off with a breeze when Optimus wasn't looking. "Please, you won't last five moves against me."  
  
  


* * *

  
  
Optimus was actually infuriatingly good at holo-chess, and their evening games regularly stretched late into the night. Starscream was leading in victories, but he was hounded by a lingering suspicion that Optimus had been throwing some matches for his benefit. For such an inexperienced player, he often made foolish mistakes at vital points in the play.  
  
But as someone who absolutely detested losing and even more so the thought that someone could be better than him at something, Starscream didn't bring it up, and gloated particularly hard when Optimus slipped up and gave him an easy victory.  
  
"I honestly don't know why you even bother," he continued to boast, plucking the crystal chess pieces off the holo-board and dropping them into their case, one by one. Optimus watched him lazily from his seat, silently enduring his bragging. "Perhaps we should try a different game? One more your speed, Prime. Uno, maybe?"  
  
"Optimus."  
  
Starscream turned at the waist to look at him slumped in his seat.  
  
"Call me Optimus," he reaffirmed, leaning forward to rise. With their height difference Starscream had to tip his helm back a fair distance.  
  
"Optimus," he repeated, the informal name sounding strangely intimate slipping past his lips. He turned back around. "But don't expect me to give you any leeway with my name. The last mech to dare call me 'Star' was found tongueless in a-"  
  
Hands cupped his face and cut him off. His face was turned and tilted upwards. His lips parted in surprise when the soft _snk_ of Optimus's battle-mask opening sounded. It parted down the middle and transformed smoothly into the sides of his face. His nose was straight and noble, lips full and smooth. Starscream's breath caught in his throat when Optimus dipped towards him.  
  
And kissed him.  
  
Starscream let his optics flutter closed, the beat of his fuel pump drumming in his audials. Optimus's mouth shifted against his and kissed him again, lingering this time. Starscream braced a hand against the table behind him, knocking over a chess-piece.  
  
The _clink_ of it rolling off the table and dropping to the floor broke their kiss. Face suddenly filling with fire, Starscream whirled around and dropped to his knees to retrieve it, accidentally smacking Optimus with a wing in the process.  
  
He heard Optimus grunt, but didn't apologise, fingering the chess-piece nervously before rising again and reluctantly setting it back in it's place. He could feel Optimus still lingering behind him, waiting.  
  
"I should apologise."  
  
"For kissing your conjunx?"  
  
"For not warning you."  
  
Starscream scoffed, summoning a confident front when he turned to face the taller mech. "I don't need a warning-"  
  
Optimus dove in and kissed him again, this time taking Starscream so throughly by suprise he gasped. He stepped back and hit the table, throwing both hands back to catch himself. Again the chess-pieces toppled over and fell to the floor. This time Starscream was far too mesmerised with the sweep of a tongue across his bottom lip to bother with them.  
  
He flung his hands up to hold Optimus's thick neck. Optimus braced a hand on the table next to his hip and the other fell scandalously low on his hip. Starscream's lips parted with a soft groan that became a desperate moan for more when Optimus's tongue plunged into his mouth and curled against his own.  
  
Starscream's spark rolled and swelled in his chest at the rumbling purrs of Optimus's engines rattling through his armour. The hand on his hip clenched in want and Starscream's aft slowly but surely found itself seated atop the holo-chess table.  
  
Optimus stepped forward and Starscream's thighs somehow came apart, spread vulgarly wide around Optimus's waist. The hand on the table found the small of his back and pulled him closer, till they were flush together. The heat from Optimus's frame was so intense and inescapable Starscream couldn't get enough air between the kisses.  
  
He made a weak, pleading noise, tightening his legs about Optimus, and Optimus wretched himself from the kiss with a curse hissed through his denta.  
  
A moment passed and Starscream blinked up at the ceiling above, wondering how he'd ended up on his back. He was still acutely aware of the legs he had wound tight about Optimus's middle and the thrumming need between his hips.  
  
"You stopped," he huffed, and it was only his strict sense of decorum that was stoping him from rolling his hips like tramp to get some much needed friction against his panel.  
  
Optimus breathed raggedly, "I shouldn't-"  
  
Starscream wanted to squirm. He bit down on his tongue, desperate, but his pride would not let him beg for it. "Why?" He demanded.  
  
"You're the Prime Consort," Optimus said, and Starscream was pleased to hear he sounded just as breathless as he felt. "Not a fling, or a - a concubine. You deserve better then being thrown across a table and-"  
  
Starscream shot up, claws drawn, and caught him by the collar seam. He held Optimus so close their noses's brushed, and served him the most dangerous look he could muster.  
  
" _That_ ," he began seriously, "is _exactly_ what I deserve."  
  
Optimus exhaled heavily against his lips, his optics fading to a dull lustful navy. Starscream loosened his grip and Optimus tilted his head towards his neck. Lips plucked lightly at his throat cabling. Starscream tipped his head back towards the ceiling.  
  
"You're sure?" Optimus spoke against his throat.  
  
Rather than answer Starscream concentrated on the pressure building between his hips and sent a command to release it. With a click and rush of cooler air, his modesty panel slipped away. Optimus didn't look, he was far too well built for that, but his optics did flick down momentarily. Starscream let himself grin lecherously, rubbing a thumb against the straight-line edge of Optimus's jaw.  
  
"Never been so sure," he purred.  
  
Optimus surged forwards and kissed him again. And this time they didn't stop.  
  
Starscream's entire frame trilled and thrummed with aching need when something hard pressed against the centre of him. He reached for it blindly, and felt a hot smooth shaft of metal under his fingertips. He trailed his hand up and down it, delighting in Optimus's approving hums as he played with it. He wrapped his hand around it and shuddered at it's girth.  
  
With some shifting and more chess-pieces falling to the floor, Optimus pulled out of the kiss to stand tall and better line up their arrays. Starscream pushed himself onto his elbows to get his first good look at Optimus's spike.  
  
It glistened at the tip and glowed in cascading pulses with biolights. He watched Optimus rock his hips forward and slide the thick shaft through his mesh folds, back and forth, the ridge separating the head from the shaft catching against his anterior node with every pass. Starscream's tank tightened with need and he sunk his claws into the table with a grind of metal when Optimus finally grasped his lubricant slick spike and guided the tip to his entrance.  
  
He nosed his way inside and Starscream melted, his moan warbling out of him long and loud. He heard Optimus murmur a curse that belonged in the gutters of Kaon rather than the rooms of the Prime's apartment, pushing in then receding a little. Starscream sucked in a breath at the pleasurable drag of his spike withdrawing, before unleashing it in a vulgar moan when Optimus pressed back in, sinking what felt like miles of stiff heat into him.  
  
Everything between his hips clenched down on the intrusion and milked as much friction as his sensors could get out of it. He felt Optimus shudder and withdraw before pushing back in again, moving in slow, measured movements. A hand flew out and caught his wing. Optimus groped it with relish and Starscream twitched into his touch, panting as the press of his hips against his aft began to quicken, picking up the pace.  
  
"Don't stop-!" Starscream gasped, the plea bursting from his vocaliser before he could even think of his pride. Because if Optimus had he would have died. "Primus, don't stop!"  
  
Optimus didn't respond but his hips moved faster, his spike pressed deeper, the hand on his wing pulled and pressed at the delicate edge until he couldn't take it any longer.  
  
All he could do was throw up his hands and cling to Optimus, one hand on his bicep, the other curled around the wiper of his windshield, threatening to snap the poor thing off as wave after wave of thundering pleasure finally crested and broke, rushing over him.  
  
He threw back his head and shouted, vocaliser catching at the end. His optics glitched and leaked coolant at the corners, and he caught his breath with a hitching sob at the end, the sensation barely receding before Optimus stiffened with a far more dignified grunt, and finished inside him.  
  
Starscream shuttered his optics and let his limbs collapse about him, his helm lolling off the end of the table. Optimus caught his breath before stirring, and Starscream shuddered at the odd sort of tickle that came from Optimus withdrawing from his valve.  
  
He drifted in the blissful aftermath for a moment, sated and warmed to his core, until a hand cupped the back of his helm and lifted it. He onlined his optics and flashed Optimus a dazed little smile, too content to be embarrassed.  
  
"The holo-chessboard," Optimus murmured, taking in the game Starscream had throughly crushed. "We appear to have destroyed it."  
  
Starscream flapped a dismissive hand. "Who cares," he croaked. " _This_ is a much better use of our evenings."  
  
Optimus smiled softly, "Thank goodness, because you're a terrible player."  
  
"Better than you," Starscream began to push himself up, arching his back to stretch out the knots.  
  
Optimus extended a hand to help him. It was such a considerate move from a mech who had done so many _considerate_ things already that evening that it warmed something foreign in Starscream's chest.  
  
"That's what you think," Optimus murmured, winking slyly.  
  
Starscream scowled, because if that were so, he was going to have to waste a lot of time trying to beat him properly that could have otherwise been spent in berth...  
  
Unless-  
  
He picked up the wrecked holo-chessboard. "Is this portable?"  
  
"I suppose it is now."  
  
Good," Starscream tucked it under his arm and snatched up Optimus hand, pulling him towards their berth room. "As a Prime I'm going to assume you can multitask?"  
  
Optimus didn't need any encouragement to follow him then.  
  



End file.
